


Whimper and Worship

by Delta_Immortal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, blowjob, bossy bottom stiles, dirty talking, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5304326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delta_Immortal/pseuds/Delta_Immortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles likes Lydia. Derek is dating Lydia. Stiles lets Derek fuck him to get closer to Lydia. It has nothing to do with being attracted to Derek as well. Really. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s the worst liar. [PWP]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whimper and Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Derek and Lydia is hinted at, but doesn't appear in the fic.
> 
> Both will be commanding shits, and both will be worshipful. Stiles is a bossy bottom, though, and does not top in this fic, and that's the sub/dom undertones explaination. The beginning is very much under dubious consent; it's not clear if Stiles likes being bossed around by Derek (he does). (He also likes bossing). 
> 
> All characters are 18 years of age or older. Just a quick one-shot I wrote a couple weeks ago, and got around to editing this week.

Stiles could ignore Derek Hale during the school day. It was easy enough; dodge him in the hallways, keep on the other side of class near the teacher during their shared periods, actively find a different lunch time. Even on the practice field he could keep away.

After practice, though, was another story.  After the late activity buses had left, when it was just him and Derek, Stiles would find himself pinned against the wall, hands in his pants as Derek teases him- hard and demanding, unyielding. Soon enough he’d drop to his knees, mouthing at Derek’s dick through sweaty gym shorts.

The worst part is Stiles wasn’t sure he really wanted to avoid Derek. Sure, they started rough- touching, teasing, pinning- but it always came… heh… to a head in a beautiful way. Derek never left him needy, sometimes making Stiles come and wanting nothing for himself.

It left him confused. He wanted Lydia, he was sure. He’d planned it out so well. He wanted to kiss her pink lips and not be pushed into lockers and made into Derek’s bitch.

Which was all a bit forceful, if anything.

Easily Stiles remembered the first time Derek really turned things sexual: an accidental encounter in the locker room during the school day. Derek called out to him in the empty room as “that loser in love with my girlfriend”, soon followed by Derek dropping his shorts. “Wanna taste her?” he sneered then. He still asked Stiles regularly after that.

On the best of days, Stiles thought he could taste her; on the worst of days Stiles only wanted to taste Derek.

It was embarrassing, wanting to be in these situations. Wanting Derek to pin him down, wanting Derek to sit on Stiles’s face and make Stiles lick at him, wanting Derek to eat him out as he was tied to the bench with jock straps, forced to take whatever Derek gave, occasional slaps to his ass to keep Stiles silent. And Derek always delivered that same tough guyness, never pushing for feelings.

Stiles wanted feelings, he knew that. He wanted to please, not be pleased, just how he would with Lydia. She’d be soft and kind and he’d be a perfect pet in return for those kind, properly manicured hands.

But Derek.

Derek was rough; rough in a way Stiles knew Lydia would never be. For example, in the now nails scraped at his scalp as he struggled for breath. The only difference was between the two was that instead of being smothered by Lydia’s sex, he was getting choked by Derek’s fat cock. Derek taught him to deep throat long ago, and he used that now, stealing breaths whenever he could, throat sore and shuddering. Even his chin was tiring from Derek’s balls banging against it.

“Good little _bitch_ , “ Derek growled above him. “Fucking so thirsty, turn gay for her? Be _my_ bitch?”

Tears from suffocation welled in Stiles’s eyes, but he ignored it. He wanted…

Derek.

Ugh. No. Lydia. He wanted Lydia, and he didn’t enjoy these sensations, not at all.

He slammed down the next thought: _worst liar ever_.

Derek came harshly down his throat, digging his nails tightly into Stiles’s scalp. “That’s a good bitch,” Derek breathed. “Drink me down, just like that.” Stiles gagged, his throat constricting, but he swallowed it down. Derek pulled away at the end, brushing the head of his cock for any leftover traces of come.

Stiles had learned quickly not to leave any. He’d sucked them all down. Gasping for breath, he looked back up at Derek, chest heaving as Derek talked at him. “Well, now, thirsty boy,” Derek began. Stiles shivered with anticipation, and rightly so. All of these _things_ began with that phrase from Derek’s lips. “I’ve got some of Lydia’s clothes, if you’re interested.”

Of course he was interested. Of course he was interested in Lydia’s clothes- the brands she wore, what styles she was interested in. How much did she spend on clothes anyway? If he knew, he could get her the perfect gift by imitating her style and following fashion and dressing up in her clothes- The thoughts ran around in Stiles mind until he noted Derek smirking, completely in control.

_As close as I’m ever going to ge_ t, Stiles repeated to himself. “Yeah,” he admitted, because he was unabashedly in love with Lydia. He’d do anything for her. Even helping her boyfriend relieve some stress. He looked up at Derek, licking his lips. Derek grinned at him, dangerous-like, hand coming down and rubbing the side of his jaw. It was almost tender.

“Good boy,” Derek praised, and Stiles would be lying if that didn’t go down to his cock, sending little shivers up and down his spine. Sometimes Derek would do this, too. His foot touched Stiles’s crotch, cock hard. “Let me see how you’d fluff yourself,” Derek murmured.

Quickly Stiles pulled out his cock, hands quick and even as he brought himself to full hardness. Derek looked down at him, as if he hadn’t come at all.

“She’d be different,” Derek told him curtly. Stiles stopped automatically, giving Derek a confused, questioning look. “She’d be more of a tease,” Derek too quickly to be anything but suspicious. It was his way of being nice, Stiles supposed. It helped fuel his curiosity, helped Stiles figure out what Lydia would be like. Derek’s tales of her helped fuel Stiles’s fantasies, and Stiles teased his head, his finger swirling around the way he’d imagined a tongue would. He could easily picture Lydia on her knees, eyelashes fluttering as she looked at him from her green eyes, her beard-

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the pressing fantasy of Derek over him. Lydia was a dream, sure, but Derek- he was _getting_ some with Derek. Derek wouldn’t do any of this if he didn’t find Stiles attractive on some level, right?

_Or maybe he’s just a bully_ , a little voice in his mind assured him, but Stiles couldn’t believe that. It was… too real, right now. So instead he jacked off.

“Slower,” Derek demanded, sitting on the bench, eyes narrow and focused. His nostrils were flaring, too, like a beast about to jump its prey. “Slower, Stiles.” The way his voice had husked over, nothing like his grunts, nothing like how he sounded when he came. Derek sounded desperate right now, more on edge than he’d been when he was skull-fucking Stiles. A little afraid Stiles kept stroking though he obeyed the command and moved more slowly, making sure to give Derek a show.

“Gonna fuck you,” Derek murmured, and Stiles could see it, yes, could see himself being fucked by this man who fucked _her_. He’d go through the same ecstasy she would, would gasp and whine and plead as he was full-

“Please,” Stiles breathed. He wanted so much to be like Lydia, he wanted to _understand_ her, wanted to _be_ her-

“Good boy,” Derek murmured, watching. “Keep going, boy. Light touches.”

Ah, Stiles was good. He’d been such a bad bitch earlier, so thirsty for Lydia but now he was good, good, Derek had shown him how to be _brilliant_ -

He came with a gasp, cum managing to hit Derek on the leg. Stiles breathed for a moment before looking at Derek, awaiting his next instruction.

“Clean it up,” Derek demanded, and automatically Stiles slid down to his knees, pressing his mouth against Derek’s muscular thigh. He mouthed at it a little, inhaling Derek’s scent. “Pretty bitch,” Derek rumbled, his hands in Stiles’s hair, softer than before, some of the pain from earlier fading away. “Just for me. Mine.” His satisfied tone sunk down to Stiles’s core, spreading warmth throughout him.

Pointedly Stiles ignored this feeling and started lick Derek up, tongue darting at the taste. It wasn’t weird at all to him, and he kept licking though his ejaculate had landed on Derek’s balls. Without an extra word, Stiles began licking them up eagerly. He didn’t often get an excuse outside of sex to explore his body, and he might have let himself get too eager, excited about tasting someone other than himself.

Derek whimpered.

_What?_

Stiles paused, moving back away from Derek’s skin. Derek hadn’t… he’d never _whimpered_ before. He’d called Stiles a tease, hold Stiles’s head and tell him to clean him up, but never a whimper. Grunts and groans. Whimpers meant Derek wanted it. Whimpers meant he was affected, that he wanted _Stiles_. And he was dating _Lydia_. But that-

Derek’s eyes flashed- they _flashed_ \- and suddenly Derek pressed him back against his crotch. “You clean me up, you little slut. Getting me all hot and bothered again.” But his voice broke, and Stiles looked up again, watching Derek’s eyes glow yellow.

Suddenly Stiles could picture them together- Derek _inside him_. He shook a little. He wanted Lydia, right? He wanted to know everything about her, wanted to be with her, wanted to be her-

He wanted to _be_ Lydia. He wanted to fuck Derek.

He kept licking, kept looking, kept thinking. Stiles wanted to be Lydia for Derek. And Derek wanted Stiles.

Also, Derek was probably not human.

More importantly, Derek wanted Stiles.

And Stiles wanted Derek. More than this.

His mind whirred with a plan.

 

***

 

When they left for the evening, Stiles darted to his computer, looking up everything he could, plan in mind.

 

***

 

The hours passed; Stiles missed school. “I’m not done with you yet,” Derek texted Stiles. “Don’t think you can escape from me.”

Escape? Stiles finished clicking his articles, printing off something. Escape?

No.

Stiles finished printing everything out, finally finishing putting everything together. He picked up his phone, dialing Talia Hale’s number.

Confrontation.

 

***

 

Talia had already emptied the house. She was the only one waiting, sniffing Stiles as he walked up. He’d parked his jeep far enough away that Derek wouldn’t _smell_ it. “Didn’t realize it was the mating moon,” he told her. “Otherwise we would have done this sooner.”

Talia only smiled at him. “Or if he told you he liked you,” she replied easily. When Stiles took back, she smiled at him. “He’s come home talking about you for years now. Even broke up with that redhead over you.”

Somehow someone else verifying his theory of Derek being in love with him gave him courage. His nervousness disappeared and he smiled, tilting his neck a little. She shook her head. “He didn’t tell you about that either, did he?” she asked, laughing at her son. She held out a set of keys to the house.

Confidence swelling deep inside, he took the keys. “Thanks for this,” he stated, and Talia smiled at him again, then transformed into a wolf and ran off.

Ok.

That was odd. Expected, but odd.

But now Stiles knew he had the house to himself, so he sauntered up to Derek’s room, ignoring the hail of messages buzzing on his phone. This was where Derek ate, he thought. Maybe Derek thought about Stiles as he ate. He let himself blush wildly for now- he could tamper it down later. For now, he let his hand fall on the table and wondered if Derek had ever thought about writing him dirty texts right in front of his mother.

The clock chimed in the hallway. Right. Stiles needed to get moving.

He headed up the stairs, heart pounding. Derek probably did this every day; came home and fucking _whimpered_ while he thought of Stiles.

Palming himself through his pants, he flung open Derek’s door. The scent of boy reached his nose, ripe and rough. Stiles could easily picture Derek coming home, falling onto his bed and touching himself after one of their practices together.

In fact, Stiles could just about do that. Kicking off his sneakers he let himself fall into Derek’s bed, nose filled with Derek’s scent. He could easily imagine Derek above him, pinning him, kissing him the same way Derek kissed Lydia. Suddenly the room seemed too warm, stiflingly so. So he pulled up his shirt, wondering what Derek might think when he saw him. He reached into his pants, pulling his cock out and tugging on it just a little.

Heat spread through his body. It felt like sin, sweet, delicious, intoxicating. Picturing Derek above him, maybe even slapping Stiles’s face with his cock- Stiles groaned and arched into his touch, fucking his fist with slow, long thrusts, just the way Derek would tease him. Just the way Derek wanted to see him.

Cripes. It was too warm. He should probably get rid of his clothes. Unworried he tossed his clothes towards some end of the room, sprawling naked on the soft comforter, trying not to focus on how he was probably laying in samples of Derek’s come all over the thing, how he was rubbing their scents together.

Desperately he grabbed the bottle of lube, trying to focus his mind on something else. Anything else. He lubed up his fingers, trying to slide them into his clean ass (preparation forever). He’d been fingering himself, so it wasn’t unusual.

The thrill of being in Derek’s bed, though, that was nearly too much. He had to pull out and keep his hands still for a full minute before he was sure he wouldn’t come.

And that’s when Derek’s car pulled up. Stiles quickly shoved more lube inside him, adjusting himself so he didn’t look spread out and like an offering when Derek came into the room.

That would be another time.

Outside, he heard the door open. “Mom?” came the question, and then a thud.

Stiles could imagine Derek sniffing, already honed into the smell, following it in a pleasant shock. There was a clank as Derek locked the main door, followed by footsteps racing up the stairs, desperate to get to where Stiles was. Stiles watched as Derek threw open the door, his fangs lowered and eyes glowing.

“That’s one way to welcome your mate,” Stiles scolded, sitting up.

He was going to Lydia this all the way, scolding and snarky.

Derek’s fangs retreated, his face looking shocked. “Imagine what happens when I look up glowing eyes,” Stiles began, eyes sharp. “Sniffing, scenting. Come marking.” He paused, waiting for it to dawn on Derek.

It took a moment. Soon enough a whine escaped Derek’s throat as he looked sheepishly away. “Imagine my surprise as I find that this aggressive posturing is one of a very insecure mate,” Stiles continued, “and that your mother has seen it before with your sister.” He leaned back, exposing his naked torso. “You couldn’t even tell me?”

Derek looked pained, eyes looking between the floor and Stiles’s cock. “I… you wanted Lydia,” Derek argued, pouting.

Stiles sighed. “I wanted to _be_ Lydia,” he admitted. “I didn’t just want to fuck her. And I’m surprised you couldn’t smell how much I wanted you. The internet said you could. There are entire web pages devoted to the subject,” he added.

Derek flushed, looking at the ground still.

Embarrassment. Insecurity. Well, Stiles was a master at dealing with that. “Do _you_ want me, Derek?”

Derek looked like a lost puppy, eyes wide for a moment before they took in his form. Something dark glinted in his eyes as he nodded, looking more like a predator than prey.

But no. This was Stiles’s predatory time now, thank you very much, and he was calling the shots. “You want me in the worst way, do you?” he asked, letting his legs fall apart and watch Derek tense, biting his own hand to keep himself still. Stiles grinned, knowing the lube made his hole all shiny and slick, that Derek knew _exactly_ what he’d missed out on by being late. “Want inside me, mark me as yours?”

Derek let out a high whine before he cautiously took a step forward, worship in every movement, eyes down at the floor. “Mate,” he breathed in, nostrils flaring. Stiles smirked, tilting his neck.

“Come and get it, then,” he demanded, each word dripping with promise from his lips.

Lydia would be proud.

Within a moment Derek was suddenly on top of Stiles, biting Stiles’s neck while his hands held Stiles’s face delicately. Their bodies pressed and rubbed together, only serving to fuel Stiles’s anticipation. He opened his legs a little more, hands scrabbling against Derek’s shirt, feeling that vast expanse of back the way he never had been allowed to before.

It was amazing how _worshipful_ Derek was to his body, now that they had permission and time. Derek rubbed his face against all of Stiles’s skin- his collarbone, the other side of his neck, down his chest. Derek kissed, sucked against Stiles’s flushed skin, and it felt amazing. He wanted Derek on him all the time, he decided, as his hands tried to lift off Derek’s shirt again, finally just scrabbling fruitlessly at Derek’s back as Stiles spread his legs even wider, hooking his ankles around Derek’s back in a silent command.

Derek’s fingers traced along his neck, moving slower as he moved lower, teasing Stiles bellybutton. A hot tongue traced against warm skin, leaving cool spit in its wake. Stiles shivered, but blamed it on his ability to finally pull the shirt off. “Hurry it up,” Stiles demanded, his fingers sinking into Derek’s shoulder blades. “Didn’t put up with all this abuse for you to _not_ fuck me senseless.”

Derek’s eyes flashed as he moved up again to Stiles’s neck, biting down yet again. Pain flashed through Stiles accompanied with euphoria; Derek was marking him. He was Derek’s. “And I don’t get to claim you?” he snarked, leaning up and biting Derek in the same place. Derek gave another whimper, and god, the power that surged through Stiles was maddening. He was _making_ Derek whimper. Derek wanted _him_.

He licked the mark, blood on his teeth, watching as it healed just a little. “Good to know,” he murmured, scratching down Derek’s back. Derek thrust against him, mouth open, pressing open mouthed kisses against Stiles’s chest. Stiles swung his hands around the front of Derek’s hips, messing with the button on his pants. “Now,” Stiles said, mouth open, and Derek met him there.

Stiles’s fingers slipped a couple of times trying to get Derek’s pants off of him, but to be fair it was distracting when Derek’s mouth was pressed against his, their tongues wrestling and fighting while Derek rutted up against him, groaning into his mouth. Only when he felt like his lungs might burst did Stiles turn his head to the side, Derek eagerly kissing any skin within reach, mostly Stiles’s cheek.

“Pretty Stiles,” he muttered, hands coming to help Stiles’s. “Gonna fuck you so pretty, make you _need_ it,” he continued.

“I already need it,” Stiles growled, swinging his right leg over Derek’s shoulder. “Feel.”

He watched Derek sniff, watched Derek put him in a much more comfortable position than folded up and pressed like a monkey against Derek’s front. Those long rough fingers slid down his torso and past his balls, slipping into his ass with a squelch. “That’s right,” Stiles said at Derek’s surprised face. “I did all the prepping, so now you be useful for once and just. Fuck. Me.” He clamped down to help enunciate the last two words.

Above him Derek shuddered, his muscles rippling, and Stiles had never seen anything like it. He reached down to feel, fingertips rewarded with hardness as Derek groaned again, throwing the rest of his clothes on the floor. “Perfect mate,” Derek managed to breathe, taking hold of his cock.

His really big cock. That he made Stiles suck all the time. And that maybe Stiles prepped for all the time.

His ass flexed a little in anticipation.

“Don’t jam it in,” Stiles commanded, taking Derek’s cockhead in his hands as he guided him into his ass. He inhaled against Derek’s ear as Derek slid the head in, making room for himself in Stile’s tight heat, and Stiles clenched a little to better feel. He exhaled to relax again. “Fuckin’ built like a stallion,” he snapped, and Derek only whined, nodding. Stiles let his right hand fall against Derek’s neck, rubbing. “You like that? Being my stallion, my huge fucktoy?”

Derek shook, face even more red, cock twitching. Stiles felt something warm ooze into his ass. “Well then,” Stiles remarked, encouraging Derek deeper, “Better impress me.”

Derek shook above him, mind halfway gone, nothing but instinct as he sheathed himself in Stiles’s ass, bottomed out and trembling. “Can I…” Derek asked between breaths, “May I kiss you?”

Most of his restraint had to be on not fucking Stiles then and there, Stiles realized, though Stiles tilted his neck again, even more thrilled at the change of power. “I’ll allow it.”

And he did. He allowed Derek to belittle him before. He allowed Derek to call him names, to demand favors, but now Stiles was the king. He held all the control, and Derek stood above him, aiming to please. And Stiles would allow it. Mostly because something big and thick was stretching him in all the most beautiful ways, pressing against a spot that would promise him stars and magic and all wonderful things if Derek would just hit it.

It didn’t take much for him to lean up and kiss Derek again, biting at Derek’s lip. Derek kissed back reverently, meeting each tongue with tongue, so focused that Stiles had to grind himself on Derek’s cock, thrusting shallowly.

Luckily Derek understood, picking up the pace. “Feel so good,” he grunted lowly in Stiles’s ear. Shivers trailed down Stiles’s spine as he grasped Derek’s shoulders, guiding the pace with the tightness of his nails.

“Slower,” he breathed, cock hard and dripping, balls so full. “Slower.”

Derek obliged, slowly pressing at that spot inside him, almost instinctively knowing what made Stiles’s breath gasp and lose his grip. “So pretty,” Derek breathed against his ear. “Mine. All mine.”

Angrily Stiles tightened his grip, squeezing his ass and letting Derek feel him. “Bitch. You’re _mine_ ,” he snapped. “Now fuck me harder. You don’t come until I do.” He finished the command with a sloppy kiss, filthily groaning into Derek’s mouth with the sudden speed of Derek’s hips, his cock hammering against his prostate.

Too good. It felt too good. He let himself go, all his lust and heat gathering at his dick, body shaking as he came over his chest with a cry. Derek slammed into him twice after before he too came, falling on top of Stiles with a rough grunt.

They lay breathing against each other for several moments before Stiles spoke. “Derek. Never court me like that again,” he demanded fondly, reaching up to pet Derek’s head.

“Agreed,” Derek replied, nuzzling against Stiles’s neck.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those who have left comments on other fics- I just got internet working again, and so I'll respond to you within 24 hours. :( I'm sorry it's been more than a month and a half without western internet.


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